


Is the sea what you hear in me

by SageMasterofSass



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Freddie Lounds - Freeform, M/M, Molly and Walter, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Sort of a fix-it, and im not telling you who or what, as in one of the boys isn't quite so human afterall, bit of a cliffhanger ending, creature!fic, gratuitous use of imagery and description, mentions of Francis Dolarhyde
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4745684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMasterofSass/pseuds/SageMasterofSass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The results of Hannibal and Will's tumble into the ocean are a little more surprising than either are expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is the sea what you hear in me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Hannibal fic and I'm rather excited about it! I really enjoyed coming up with the idea and getting it onto paper. And I plan to continue writing for Hannibal too; there's a nice smut story that I'll probably do next, and a multi-chaptered fic based off of the music video for Bitch Better Have my Money (since Mads is in it lmao), but neither will happen for quite a while with school and all. We'll see.

Will couldn’t help gasping when they hit the water.

Hannibal’s body shielded him from most of the impact, but the ocean was frigid and strong, a current pulling at their tangled limbs the moment they were submerged. It tugged on his open wounds, pressing salt into them so that they burned like hellfire, even worse than his open eyes.

The water was chaotic and confusing, a push-pull that was frothy white one moment and a blue so dark it was black the next. It was a shock after the quiet peacefulness of their free fall.

He tried to twist, tried to move his body against the force of the currents and waves, but Hannibal’s arms tightened around him, holding him still.

Will struggled harder. His lungs were starting to ache, screaming out for oxygen, and he knew he’d inhale water soon if he didn’t find the surface. But still Hannibal held him under, and he wondered if maybe the man meant to drown Will, to kill him after all of this.

It seemed a waste, considering the effort they’d gone through just to get here.

Still, when Will felt his lips finally part and salt water rush down his throat, he relaxed his body back into Hannibal’s, relinquishing control over his life or death.

The last thing he saw before he slipped into unconsciousness was a flash of something the color of blood through the dark water.

oOo

Countless bright stars were what Will was greeted with when he slipped gracelessly from unconsciousness back into the waking world. They shifted minutely above him, swaying to and fro on a gentle curve.

Will had spent enough nights out on his boat to be able to recognize what waves under a bow could do to the night sky when you were staring up at it. He blinked languidly, momentarily relaxed until memory began to kick in.

The cliff, and Hannibal, dark water, being pulled and held under.

Gingerly, Will sat up and glanced around at the small, unfamiliar boat whose deck he was laid out on. It had a single sail and no cabin, something made to spend short days close to shore on, or lazing on the calm surface of a lake.

There was no sign of Hannibal.

Will took stock of himself next, running his fingertips around the torn skin of his cheek. It felt tight and painful, but didn’t burn the way it had when the knife had slipped in, or when he’d been in the water. It also seemed like it had closed up, tacky blood still caught in the scruff of his beard but no longer flowing freely.

The wound on his chest was in a similar state, and he found he’d been stripped of most of his clothes. He found them on a bench behind his head, laid out to dry beside his boots, though he knew from experience both leather and cloth would be stiff from the salt water. The only article he’d been left was his boxers, which clung stubbornly to his lower body and chilled him.

The air was sharp and clear, tinged heavily with the scent of the ocean, but it was also cold and there were goosebumps all down Will’s arms that he expected had been there for some time. After a brief search, he managed to find a thick blanket stowed under one of the benches, and he pulled it tight around himself as he found a seat near the bow and curled up there, peering out at the dark water.

The moon was a silver crescent in the sky, but in the waves it stretched and wavered, twice its size. Hannibal’s clothes were laid out on the bench opposite Will’s; he’d seen them but hadn’t bothered with anything more than a glance. The man himself wasn’t present, and Will wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

On the one hand, Will wasn’t dead right now. Before he’d started asphyxiating he’d been sure Hannibal was trying to drown him. Obviously, he hadn’t been if Will was still alive, but that left the question of where the hell the man was.  There were only so many places one could go when you were literally floating in the sea.

There was no land in any direction Will could see, and the anchor chain had been tumbled over the edge, chaining the craft in place even as it drifted.

He probably shouldn’t feel this abandoned.

Even the thought of Hannibal ending Will’s life hadn’t felt as big of a betrayal as simply abandoning him did. This didn’t feel like another game, another chase, and even if it was Will didn’t think he wanted to participate. He’d finally been ready to move on, to accept both himself, and Hannibal, and the tangle of emotions weaving them together. To have Hannibal just….disappear, when Will thought they’d both be getting what they’d wanted, when he’d thought  they’d been preparing to strip away their old lives like a dead layer of skin, pink and new and reborn underneath, hurt. He’d wanted that new life, still did if the ache in his chest was anything to go by. And it had been denied him, in the last few seconds before his fingers closed around it.

Will crossed his arms on the boat’s side and laid his head down. He fell asleep there, too tired and disappointed to do much else in the moment.

oOo

“Will.”  

Soft light painted the inside of Will’s eyelids a violent shade of red, both soothing and disturbing in equal turns.

“Will.”

Will blinked slowly, taking in the sight of the sun rising out of the ocean in front of him, its pale color echoed in a deeper shade on the water. At some point in the night, the boat must have shifted to point East, forcing him to face the dawning day.

But that wasn’t what had woken him, and the voice that had drawn him from sleep was not in his immediate line of sight.

The image of Hannibal bobbing gently in the water, only his head and the tops of his bare shoulders visible, was so odd that Will simply had to stare for a few seconds to take it in. Even once he was positive he was actually awake, it didn’t get any less weird.

“What are you doing?”

The edge of Hannibal’s mouth curled up into a slight smile. “Trying to get your attention.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Will had no idea how Hannibal could still look so calm and collected with his hair slicked back against his head and water clinging in long, thin lines to his face and throat. The water had to be freezing, had been when Will was in it, and yet Hannibal seemed perfectly comfortable where he was floating.

“You weren’t here last night,” Will finally said.

“No, and I apologize for that,” Hannibal replied easily. “I meant to be back sooner.”

There were no other boats that Will could see in the water, though he did note that the shore was a thick, dark line on the horizon, too distant for him to have seen in the dark the night before but apparent now. Had Hannibal swam all the way there and back? Impossible, it was too far, especially for a man just coming out of a years long confinement.

Where the hell had Hannibal gone?

“Will,” the man in question called again. “If you would be so kind as to help me into the boat, I’d be more than happy to answer any questions you might have.”

It was a small craft, but there were still several feet from the rail down to the water. Will eyed the distance dubiously before standing and setting his blanket aside, despite how the early morning chilled him the moment he lost the extra warmth.

He leaned over the side, one hand braced on the rail and the other stretched out towards Hannibal. Hopefully the boat was well balanced, otherwise they were both going to find themselves floating in the ocean. Only, when Hannibal reached out to take Will’s hand, there was something wrong.

Will stared at the hand in his, gripping it but not attempting to pull the other man up yet. Hannibal’s fingers, typically thick and blunt, had tapered at the tips, and thick, sharp claws curled from their ends, the edges of them tinged in black. They rested casually against the back of Will’s hand, light enough that if the men tightened their grips, Will wouldn’t be gouged by the knife-like edges.

Patiently, Hannibal gave him time to gawk before clearing his throat. Will looked up from their joined hands, and Hannibal tipped his head to the side. The movement made something blood red flash brightly just beneath his ear, shining one second and nothing but a matte streak the next.

“As I said, any questions you might have,” Hannibal said, his tone amused. It drew Will’s gaze from that red back to the other man’s face.

He paused, then said, “Right.”

Getting Hannibal into the boat actually proved to be easier than Will was expecting. He tightened his grip and hauled backwards, pulling the other man up a foot or two, enough for him to get his elbows over the side, and from there Hannibal did the rest himself.

Will watched in fascination as a long, red tail followed Hannibal up and over the rail, water running smoothly down the scales and into the bottom of the boat as the…man, settled himself on one of the benches.

It wasn’t so much red as it was a burgundy, wine spilt on dark wood flashing through Will’s mind. There were small flecks of gold scattered throughout, and the thin near-translucent fluke fin was more of a maroon, closer to the splash of blood he’d seen on Hannibal’s throat.

Scales met pale flesh right at hip level, though Will could see small patches of glittering red that crept up Hannibal’s sides towards his ribs. He was a pretty picture with the rising sun at his back, the light highlighting a pink flush high on his cheeks and along his collarbones, like he’d been exerting himself.  

“Surprised?” Hannibal asked, and Will couldn’t help his snort.

“You have to admit that this is way out of left field.”

“There were indeed far better ways I could have told you.”

Will shook his head before gathering up his discarded blanket and settling on the bench opposite Hannibal. The folded down sail sat in the space between them and slightly to the right, an obstacle that didn’t obstruct direct sight.

“So, what are you, exactly?” Will asked.

Hannibal folded his claw tipped hands neatly in his lap, the sharp edges looking somehow natural against the purple-red backdrop of scales. “There have been many names for my kind. The most common is mermen, but I personally prefer siren.”

And Hannibal would. Siren was a much more elegant and refined term than merman, and Will knew all about how much Hannibal revered elegance above all else.

“Obviously you can pass as human.”

Hannibal dipped his head slightly, acknowledging the point. “Yes, it is only the presence of salt water that brings about the change. I function just fine on dry land.”

Will’s attention was again caught by that flash of red under Hannibal’s ear and he found himself staring at the spot, trying to see it more clearly. He didn’t catch the amused curl of Hannibal’s lips, but he did hear the teasing, “Would you like a closer look?”

He didn’t have to think twice, he was thoroughly intrigued. “Yes, please.”

Hannibal waved Will forward, and Will went, holding his blanket tightly around his shoulders as he resettled. The loss of an obstacle between them didn’t feel like a loss at all.

Up close it was easy to see that the red was a thin set of gills, closed tight against the air, but that probably fluttered and shifted when submerged. A hesitant but gentle touch on Hannibal’s chin had him turning towards Will so he could see the matching set on the opposite side, just as small and delicate looking. He was struck with the urge to run his fingertips over them, to see if the webbing was as smooth and silky as it looked, but he refrained and dropped his touch from Hannibal’s face quickly.

“Better?”

“I have so many questions,” Will admitted honestly.

“I’m sure you do.”

Will thought for a moment, still quietly taking in Hannibal’s appearance, human features merging perfectly with alien. “Are there others like you?”

Something in Hannibal’s expression pinched slightly, distaste evident on his features. “Yes. But I don’t keep in contact with any of my so-called brethren.”

Will couldn’t help raising his eyebrows. “I take it the culture isn’t up to your standards?”

“It’s why I left in the first place.”

“Humans can’t honestly be that much better.”

Distaste faded back into detached amusement once again. “Not always, no. But they are in some ways.”

“Such as?”

“Art, the sciences, music, to name a few.”

Living underwater must have made the subjects more difficult than was worth the effort or something. Although…

“In myths sirens are always known for their music.”

Hannibal looked like he might want to roll his eyes, but considered himself above the act. “Yes, well, you cannot believe everything in the myths.”

“So sirens don’t sing?”

“Not in the way you’re meaning.”  

“Do they eat people then, or is that just a you thing?” Will cocked his head to the side, brow drawing low as his own words processed. “Could you even be considered a cannibal if you’re not the same species?”

“Technically, no,” Hannibal admitted. “But considering I’ve lived a great deal of my life as a human, I think the term might still apply. And to answer your other question, yes, sirens do eat anyone they can lure into the water, as well as the flesh of fish and other marine animals.”

The sun continued to rise behind them, warming the air by degrees, and the light felt good on Will’s face and the few other places it managed to touch skin. It was drying the salt water on Hannibal as well, several pieces of ash blonde hair falling free to hang in his face, and his chest hair unsticking from his skin. Already the dark claws on his hands were starting to recede, his fingers changing back to the thick, blunt shape Will was familiar with. He was curious to see how the rest of Hannibal would change as well, if it would be a slow progression as parts of his body dried faster than others, or if his tail would simply disappear between one blink and the next, nothing but the slight paunch of his stomach and pale thighs remaining.

“Have you run out of questions already?”

Will shook his head, transferring his gaze to his own lap in slight embarrassment at having been caught with his mind wandering. “Not even close. I was just noticing that you’re changing back.”

Hannibal lifted one hand, twisting his wrist this way and that as if he hadn’t noticed the loss of his own claws during their conversation. “So I am.”

“Does it always take so long?”

“I can control the speed. Right now I’m slowing the process, since you are so interested.”

Made as much sense as the rest of all of this did really, which was, not much at all. But Will could accept it; he felt fresh after their free fall, after the deaths of their old lives. There wasn’t a lot he couldn’t or wouldn’t accept right now concerning Hannibal. He’d been wrong earlier, this had been the perfect way to tell Will.

“So you never answered me before, where did you go?”

“I have a small cabin prepared for us a ways down the coast. I went to ensure things were as they should be.”

How Hannibal had managed to get them a cabin either before his escape, or in the brief time he’d been free since, Will didn’t want to know. He guessed his earlier assessment of Hannibal swimming to shore as impossible had been false, though.

“Where were you hiding the boat? I didn’t see it yesterday in the daylight.”

“Nowhere. I borrowed it from a dock where it wouldn’t be missed for some time. I’ll return it after we’ve reached the cabin.”

 Will gave a small hum to show he’d heard, but didn’t offer a response beyond that. Instead he stared out at the water, at the distant land, and then glanced back at the sail. They should be moving soon, if they didn’t want to arouse the suspicion of anyone looking out at the horizon.

“Which direction is the cabin?”

“Thirty miles South. It’s on a stretch of beach inaccessible by land.”

Standing, Will shed his blanket, the direct sun on his skin keeping him warm enough as he went about pulling up the anchor and unfurling the sail. Once they were under way, moving at a steady clip, the chilled air blowing by was too much again, but he was able to sit by the rudder with his blanket around his shoulders, and switch his attention between the slowly-drying Hannibal and watching where they were going.

oOo

The ‘cabin’ Hannibal had been talking about was less a cabin and more a small, wooden mansion. Will raised an eyebrow at the screened front porch, the large bay windows, the widows walk, and the tall peaks of the roof, but didn’t say anything. Hannibal _would_ consider something like this roughing it.

It was up on stilts, tall enough to protect it even during a storm surge, but the house was still so close to the water that it’s eventual destruction by nature was inevitable. The sand was pale and the beach the house sat on formed a small horseshoe shape, dark cliffs rising on all sides to shelter it. As far as safe houses went, it was a good choice. If it wasn’t found within a certain amount of time, all the evidence it held would be lost to the sea, and the cliffs protected it from prying eyes and the casual traveler.

Will had been unwilling to put on his salt-stiff clothes, and had instead spent the trip huddled under his blanket, but he was forced to abandon it when he had to hop out of the boat so it could be beached. Hannibal, who had pulled on his pants and soft sweater despite the salt, stayed safely within until he could touch down on sand without growing fins again (the sole reason Will had been willing to beach the boat in the first place when it should be anchored in the shallows instead).

But god, watching Hannibal trade his tail for legs? It had been amazing and weird all at once, the scales rippling like a reflection before giving way to lightly-furred skin that spread in odd patches. Watching the maroon fins curl up on themselves in order to form feet had been the oddest part, but Will liked the way Hannibal’s gills had simply faded away, like they were just sinking beneath the surface of skin, waiting to emerge again when they were needed.

The interior of the cabin proved to be just as luxurious as the outside when Will ventured within after finally being satisfied that the boat wouldn’t be washed away before it could be returned; extravagantly designed rugs on all the floors, leather furniture, a green room _in_ the house, and several large bedrooms, though the master was the biggest, and had a thick, gauzy veil hanging around the bed. And of course, the kitchen was full of stainless steel and all the opulence Will remembered from Hannibal’s Baltimore home.

After locating and pulling on a change of clothes that were a touch too big, Will found Hannibal again, who was going through the pantries and fridge taking stock of their food stores.

“Who’d you get to set all this up?” he asked, propping his elbows on the counter and leaning back against it.

Hannibal glanced at him before returning his attention to the fridge, which seemed to be lacking in some way judging by his look of faint disdain.

“An old patient of mine. No one you need to worry about, they won’t be coming back.”

Again, Will didn’t even want to know how in the hell Hannibal had managed to be so many steps ahead, but he could be grateful for it. The cabin was a nice set up.

“How long are we planning on staying?” he asked next. “And where do we go next?”

“A month or two should suffice,” Hannibal said, closing the fridge and then moving in on Will, boxing him in against the counter with his arms. “I’d like to take you to Europe after that, I think. A haircut, shave, and new clothes should keep us from being recognized long enough to fly there. Italy first, perhaps, or maybe France.”

There were doubtlessly a lot of details they’d need to hammer out in that plan, but for the here and now Will simply smiled, palms itching until he’d put them on Hannibal’s hips, just holding him in place.

“Going to take me on a tour?”

“Yes. There are a great many things I want to share with you,” Hannibal murmured, the minimal space between them growing smaller as he pressed into Will’s hands. “Eventually though, I’d like to find somewhere we could settle down. Close enough to civilization for the occasional hunt, but far enough away to keep you and the, what I’m sure will be the countless stray dogs you adopt, comfortable.”

The mention of dogs sent a faint pang through Will, but he knew Molly and Walter would take good care of his ragtag pack. They’d keep them all, because they knew Will would have wanted them to, and they were going to think he was dead. That also made his chest ache slightly, but it was another reminder that he’d left that life behind for a reason, a purpose.

Will glanced down at the innocuous ring still perched on his left hand. He’d forgotten about it, but now he slipped it off and set it on the counter behind himself. A true death. He smiled faintly at Hannibal and then leaned in to kiss him, bittersweet.

oOo

Hannibal had to rest before he could return the boat he’d stolen. (‘Borrowed, William, we are giving it back, after all.’)

Apparently, sirens had superior strength and endurance compared to humans, but Hannibal had been deteriorating  for three years behind bars (or a glass wall, rather) and he’d also been swimming nearly all night to make sure the cabin was safe for them. He wasn’t up for another long swim while pushing a boat just yet.

There was no TV, but some wifi had been set up, and Will found a laptop on the desk in the study. It was a good find, because his phone had been ruined by salt water, and he’d tossed it over the side of the boat long before they’d reached their abandoned beach (littering, he knows, but if there was any chance at all that the electronic could be traced, he couldn’t risk keeping it and disposing of it later).

When he got online, there was nothing yet about Hannibal and Will’s deaths, but there were quite a few articles about their escape together. It’d be a while until the FBI tracked them all the way to the house of their final confrontation, for them to find Dolarhyde’s body, and the recording of his murder on his own camera. Will gave it another forty-eight hours before _that_ particular video was on every major news site, probably starting with the infamous TattleCrime.com.  

Murder husbands, indeed.

As much as he disliked her, Freddie was definitely astute. He wondered if she’d known, when he’d put his hand on Chilton’s shoulder, exactly what he was doing. It was a solid guess that she had; she’d probably been just as curious as he was to see what the Dragon would do.

Will shut the laptop down and left it where he’d found it after he’d browsed through all the latest news, unwilling to spend much more time online least he leave a virtual trail. He then tracked down the modem and turned that off too, just for good measure.

oOo

The sun was beginning to set when they went back down to the beach, the tide just starting to come in. Thanks to the cliffs, the sunset’s light had already abandoned both the house and a good stretch of both sand and water, leaving them bathed in shadow. The cliffs did not, however, protect from the wind blowing in off the ocean, faintly chilled but warmer than the falling night and tangling Will’s curls around his ears.

He rolled his jeans up to his knees and waded into the surf to where the rising water was tugging fruitlessly at the boat’s hull, trying to lure it back out to the deep where it belonged. Hannibal physically couldn’t help push the boat out, so Will was left to do the task himself while Hannibal stood barefoot in the sand, arms crossed over his bare chest and the setting sun beyond the cliffs throwing a vibrant orange halo around him.

In the end, rolling his jeans up did Will no favors, as he had to wade in up to his waist, and both his jeans and shirt were soaked regardless. He didn’t mind much though, there were plenty of spare clothes in the house, and a washer and dryer even if there weren’t.

Will was more interested in watching Hannibal change anyways. He couldn’t imagine it being a very dignified matter when the water wasn’t deep enough for Hannibal to just jump right in. At some point, fins would win over feet, wouldn’t they, even if Hannibal could control how quickly or slowly the chance overcame him. And you couldn’t very well walk on fins.

As always, Hannibal proved to be impeccable, even when doing something that anybody else would look ridiculous doing. In the half-shadow light, he unbuttoned his pants and then slid them and his underwear down, leaving them in a crumpled pile on the sand as he strode into the water.

Due to the shadows, Will couldn’t see the change as well as he’d like, but he could see the faint idea of movement all along Hannibal’s legs, his mind filling in the rippling from skin to scales that was the opposite of what he’d witnessed before.  But Hannibal didn’t fall, and his legs didn’t turn to tail until the man had nearly reached where Will stood gently rocking in the waves. Even then, the way he dove shallowly, fluke breaching in a small glittering waterfall behind him, was elegant.

Hannibal swam around Will and placed his palms on the warm wood of the boat, but didn’t yet push it out to sea.

“The trip should take me around five hours in total. You needn’t wait up for me.”

“That’s over thirty hours in just two and a half hours, there aren’t a lot of marine animals that can swim that fast,” Will said, and in the very last of the dying light, he saw the glint of Hannibal’s teeth as he smiled.

“I am not an animal.”

Then he was gone, with a powerful push of his tail that Will felt reverberate through the water. Will turned to watch the shape of the boat until it was swallowed by the darkness, and then he waded back up onto the beach.

oOo

Hannibal had said Will didn’t need to wait up for him to return, but Will found himself doing just that.

He went back into the house first, and changed out of his wet clothes, putting both his and the ones Hannibal had left in the sand into the washer. Dressed in a thin, soft-t shirt, sweatpants, and armed with a blanket, he went to dig through the kitchen to find caffeinated tea to make for himself.

The screened in front porch was tempting, but the mesh of the screens disturbed the view, and the sky and its countless stars was not as easily visible under the roof. So when his tea was done steeping, Will turned off all the lights in the house and took his mug and his blanket outside, curling up on the front steps of the house. He leaned against the railing and the step behind him, and was able to watch the stars and the horizon unobstructed.

Unlike the night before, the stars didn’t sway above Will, but they were still bright and numerous, and it was easy to pick out the constellations amongst their ranks. Will traced the ones he was familiar with first, and then he made a few of his own creation; a stag with feathers instead of fur, branching antlers burned at the tips, a twisting dragon with dripping claws, a serpent with fins and intelligent eyes. Then he tried to find them in the ocean, but this far from the water their reflections weren’t visible, and the stars shone only in the wavering silver of cresting waves.

For hours Will sat there in the worsening chill of the night, tasting the salt breeze on his tongue, and clasping the fading warmth of his mug between his palms.

Hannibal’s reappearance in the surf was silent and a natural movement from wave to solid form. One moment the beach was empty, the next his dark form was detaching itself from the water and walking sedately towards the house.

It was just coming up on midnight, the moon having reached its zenith and paused there, hanging suspended in the velvet sky.

Will didn’t stand, but he did lift his head from where he’d dropped it against the stair railing when Hannibal approached. His still wet feet tracked sand up the steps as he mounted them, salt water dripping off his naked body intermittently and plinking near-silently against the wood. The water that clung stubbornly to his skin caught the moonlight, gilding him in silver like the crest of the crashing waves.

In the night, he looked ethereal.

Will tipped his head back, and Hannibal bent slightly at the waist, meeting him for a chaste kiss. When Hannibal retreated, Will stood, and together they went back into the house.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/)! So you should come talk to me.


End file.
